


Breaking the Rules

by lily rose (annabeth)



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Het, Masturbation, Not Beta Read, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8315926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/lily%20rose
Summary: What might Ginny have been thinking while on the phone with Mike Lawson, both of them getting aaawfully comfortable?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).



> This is... mostly driven by outruntheavalanche. I know a little bit about baseball, enough to fake it, but not a lot... that said, mostly the reason I'm including that disclaimer is because I think Ginny's trick pitch is a screwball, and unfortunately I don't really know a lot about that pitch. Um. Imma shut up now. >__>
> 
> Spoilers for 1x04.

Ginny doesn't remember feeling like this for a long time. Despite her no-ballplayers rule, Lawson reminds her of feelings she hasn't had since she was a teenager. He manages to remind her a little of her brother—the way he watches out for her—but in the same breath he makes her feel things she'd thought forgotten.

She had loved Trevor, back when they were both still trying to work their way up in the system. She's pretty ambivalent about him now, which is why it scares her to be reclining back on her bed, against the pillows, and talking to Lawson and _feeling_ things.

"I think it was a moonshot," Lawson cracks, still ragging her on the home run she gave up on the first pitch. "Astronauts will be seeing it fly by the space station windows."

"Shut up," Ginny groans. "I know, it was awful! I knew I didn't belong in the All-Star game."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short, Baker. You belong wherever you find yourself in this life." Lawson pauses, just a breath too long. Ginny wonders what he's thinking, and opens her mouth to ask.

What she says instead makes her want to clap her hands over her mouth and disappear.

"What are you doing, Lawson?"

It sounds innocent enough, but Ginny has _images_ in her head, and that makes the question anything but. She wonders if Lawson can hear the suggestiveness in her tone.

"Just layin' on my couch, havin' a beer," he replies. "Hey, Baker. Make sure you practise your trick pitch in your bullpen session tomorrow. It wasn't as crisp as it usually is."

"Dammit, I know," she says. Ginny closes her eyes and wishes _she_ had a beer. She's not thinking too hard about it, but she knows minutes are zipping by, making it late at night to be talking to a teammate, especially when he says,

"Baker, listen. None of us have been in this situation before, having a potential relationship partner—I mean, because of the whole 'opposite sex' thing—in the locker room. You should, uh, watch out for yourself."

"Isn't that what I have you for?" Ginny teases. "You mean to tell me you won't beat off the boys with a baseball bat if they get too handsy or out of line?"

"Fuck," Lawson says, and there's something in his voice, something Ginny recognises but doesn't want to acknowledge. "Pretty sure you can handle it, Baker. You'd just throw at their heads in BP."

"Lawson," Ginny says, "what time is it?"

"Not quite time for that home run to land," Lawson teases. He's quiet again, and Ginny wonders what he's doing now. She opens her eyes and glances at the alarm clock next to her—almost 10pm. Late enough that she should be getting ready for bed. She shimmies out of her jeans, and Lawson is literally just _breathing_ on the other end of the line. What _is_ he doing?

When Ginny gets her jeans down her thighs and off, she's suddenly hyper-and-uncomfortably aware of the fact that the crotch of her panties is wet. Soaked right through.

"What are you thinking about, Baker?" Lawson says at last, as if he's been waiting on _her_.

"Just baseball shit," Ginny hedges. "Gotta figure out how to make my pitches break over the plate just right. It's harder for me, now, because these guys are used to hitting pitches a lot faster than mine. Location is all-important, and it's hard—" she stops, because she's about ninety percent positive that Lawson's breath caught both times she used the word "hard".

"You know what, it's late," she says. "I gotta turn in if I want to be sharp tomorrow. Enjoy your beer, Lawson."

"Mike," he says so softly Ginny doesn't think that could possibly be what he said. "Night, Baker."

Ginny swipes the phone call to an end, and then drops her cell on the bed. One hand sneaks down the front of her panties, and she tells herself, the whole time she's worrying at her clit and making herself come, that _I'm not breaking my rule. It's just an accident, a side effect of all the excitement. I'm not breaking my rule. I'm_ not.

End.


End file.
